Sonnet (Why dost thou say thou lov'st me now) [second printing]

Why dost thou say thou lov'st me now,
And yet proclam'st it is too late.
When bound by folly, or by fate,
Thou canst no further grace allow?

Repeat no more that killing Voice,
Thou beautious Victrice of my Heart;
Or find a way to ease my smart,
Maugre thy now repented choice.

'Tis not too late to love, and do
What love and nature prompt thee to,
Whilst thus thou triumph'st in thy prime;

Thou may'st discreetly love, and use,
Those pleasures thou didst once refuse:
But to profess it were a Crime.